*Instert random vocal noises here* I have had a devil of a day. So I left for work, everything was going fine. Got on the train. Train exploded above my head and we all had to get off and wait for the next one to come. Finally got to the right station, started walking up the hill to the bus interchange. A woman asks me for directions, so I stopped to help her. Those thirty seconds cost me the bus I needed to catch, making me late for work. That's what I get for helping people. But in saying that, I got a chapter written. So all's well that ends well, I guess.

Chapter 2

I wheeled myself out of the supermarket with a grin on my face, something that rarely happened, especially when I had the boys with me. We'd managed to get through the entire grocery shop without a temper tantrum from any one of us. Not even me. And on top of that, I'd managed it by myself, in my chair. Ranger had told me to leave the groceries, that he would l do the shopping on the weekend, but I knew I had to prove to him that I could be just as independent as I was before the accident, with the exception of the fact that I couldn't drive myself about. I know he wasn't happy about the Merry Men driving me about, but it was only because he wanted to be the one to aid me in whatever I needed. I could handle looking after the boys. I could handle the odd errand. And I could keep the household in working order as much as I used to. I wasn't saying I was Wonder Woman all of a sudden, but I wasn't an invalid.

The boys were walking in front of me, pushing the miniature trolleys we'd used instead of the one regular sized one we would normally have utilised, and I called to them not to get too far ahead just as a massive explosion blasted hot air in our direction. When I regained my bearings, caught off guard by the blast, I was relieved to see that the boys had stopped dead in their tracks, directly in front of me. They were marvelling over the great plume of smoke now emanating from the approximate space where Woody had parked the car.

Sighing, I wasted no time calling the control room to let them know that the boys and I were fine, knowing that they would be extra vigilant on my vehicle tracker watch given that I couldn't exactly run from an explosion. As an extra measure, I called Carlos to tell him directly; since he would probably call to make sure I was alright anyway. He informed me that the guys would have called emergency services for me, and that he would be by my side in ten minutes. This caused another sigh to fall from my lips, but I couldn't deny him, especially since he'd already hung up on me.

I herded the boys over to a nearby bench so they could sit and eat the treats I'd gotten them for being so well behaved while we waited for things to start happening apart from the panicked commotion of the parking lot, and had just ensured that the trolleys weren't going to roll away when a muttered curse met my ears. From my new vantage point, I had a better view of the explosion site and could see that it had involved two cars. The poor guy was probably the owner of the unfortunate car next to mine.

"Was that red car yours?" I asked sympathetically, reminding the boys to stay put as I wheeled over next to him.

He shook his head, his shoulders seeming to droop. "Nay," he replied in what sounded to me to be a Scottish accent. "'Twas a rental." His lilting speech was so mesmerising that I almost missed what he'd said.

Laying a hand on his forearm in an attempt to soothe him, I commented, "I'm sorry." He looked down at me and I was met with the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen. It was like staring into the crystal blue waters of the Pacific Island Carlos had taken me to on our honeymoon cruise. With those eyes and that voice he could hypnotise people into doing whatever he wanted. The man let out a soft chuckle that had me blinking in confusion up at him. "Huh?" I uttered in all my American eloquence.

"I'm no' in the habit of hypnotising people, luv," he assured me, a twinkle in his magical eyes.

Without thinking about what I was saying, I suddenly found myself in a ramble, unable to stop. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe you should consider this a little more carefully. I mean, take your car, for example. Use your charms on the rental people and maybe you can convince them to not make you pay for the destruction of their vehicle."

"Doona fash yerself," he said kindly, patting my hand, which I now realised was still on his arm. I quickly snatched it away as he continued speaking. "With the luck I have, I paid for the extra insurance," he informed me pleasantly. "They'll replace it even if it's, what's the word, totalled?"

"I know what you mean," I agreed. "I've lost count of how many of my cars have blown up."

Strangely, his eyes narrowed at my statement, like he was trying to work out a complex math problem. I contemplated asking if anything was wrong, but was slightly distracted by Woody's pounding footsteps as he ran full pelt down the sidewalk toward us. Just as he caught sight of me and the boys and began to slow, the man next to me turned to face me fully, extended his hand and introduced himself. "Brodie," he said.

"Stephanie," I reciprocated, gripping his hand firmly. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you," he responded immediately. "I doona want you to think me crazy," he started cautiously. "But could you take a look at a crossword puzzle for me? I believe you could help."

I couldn't help the laughter that spilled from my throat at his request. Someone asking me for help with a crossword puzzle was like asking a kitten for help untangling a ball of yarn. Completely useless and often frustrating. When I'd calmed a bit I saw that there was honest hope in his gaze, and I just couldn't outright deny him. "Okay," I agreed. "I'll take a look, but I'm not making any promises. I'm useless at these things." As I finished my warning he produced a piece of paper with a flourish and I obediently took and looked it over. I'd been expecting a puzzle book or part of a newspaper, but instead what I got was a piece of computer paper with a hand drawn grid and clues written in crisp, even, cursive below. "What is this?" I asked before even glancing at the clues.

"My father fancied himself a funny man," Brodie informed me, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "This is what he left me in his will when he died."

Staring up at him, I tried to work out if he was being serious or pulling one of my non-functioning legs. I wasn't that great at reading people, though, so I had to ask in the end. "This is all he left you?"

"That piece of paper and his cottage," he amended.

"And you seriously think I can help with it?"

"Our cars were just blown up together," he said, like that explained his reasoning in plain English. "It feels right."

By this time, Woody had reached us and was watching out exchange with all the suspicion of a man who was well aware that his ass was grass if anything happened to me or the boys. "Are you alright, Bomber," he asked, barely glancing in my direction.

"Fine," I assured him. "I called control and they would have gotten in contact with emergency services. And Ranger should be here any minute."

"Great," he said, still staring at Brodie. "Awesome. One request?"

"Anything."

"Call me next time too? I was scared to death when I saw the smoke."

"Of course, Woody," I agreed. "Why don't you go keep an eye on the boys? I left them with the shopping and if no one's watching them they'll probably find the ice cream."

As Woody nodded and headed over to the bench, I followed his progress with my eyes, feeling the need to make sure he did as I asked. Of course, that's the most irrational thought in the world; the men always do what they're told. It was just that sometimes they did it in their own way, or they added their own little mini commands in their heads. When I returned my attention to Brodie he too was watching my man in black and children.

"Husband?" he asked in a conversational tone.

"Designated driver," I corrected, regretting the words when his gaze dropped to my legs and a look of understanding came over his face. It was the first time someone had looked at me like that that I was aware of and I suddenly felt the need to make light of the situation. Unfortunately the only jokes I could think of implied that I was drunk, and considering I had two young boys with me, I wasn't sure that was the best course of action. Thankfully, though, I was saved from the awkwardness of the moment that had sprung up between us as two fire trucks, three police cars and two Rangeman SUVs pulled into the lot and in the next instant I was surrounded.

"Steph!" Bog Dog greeted, giving me a fist bump – yeah, I thought it was weird at the time too.

Carl Constanza was right behind him, positively beaming at me."You wanna warn us you're back in town before you pull a stunt like this?" he teased. "We've missed out on a real cash grab opportunity here!"

"Sorry guys," I apologised, but it was hard to work up the corresponding emotion when there was a grin fighting to get free. "I was going to come and visit," I tried.

"Oh sure," came the voice of Eddie Gazzara as he strolled up to our congregation. "Don't lie to us. This is your way of announcing that you're back. No stopping by for a howdy-do chat for you. You jump straight into the fire."

"It wasn't deliberate," I stated, looking each of them directly in the eye so they would know I was telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Well, maybe not, considering when I'm lying through my teeth I still look them straight in the eye. "I came out of the supermarket and it blew up."

"Babe," I heard behind me at the same time I felt the tingle on the back of my neck.

"It's how it happened," I defended, twisting around to see him. "I swear! Ask your sons."

He placed a hand at the back of my neck and I stopped contorting my body; the physical connection more than made up for the lack of visual. I could tell so much from his touch that I often had difficulty picking up on in his face. The subtle differences in his grip, body temperature, and steadiness told me anything from the emotion he was feeling to whether he was well or not.

"If you have any more questions," Carlos told the boys in blue. "Woody should be able to answer them." And before I had time to react he was wheeling me away. I reached for the breaks, but he simply leaned forward and brushed my hand away gently, pressing them both into my lap without even pausing. "I'm not taking your independence away," he said, sounding slightly strained. "I'm just in a hurry to get you away from all the eyes so I can be sure you're okay."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he couldn't take my word for it just this once. He wouldn't be satisfied until he'd made sure I had absolutely no bruises, no cuts, not abrasions. Of course since we were in public he would have to make do with making sure that I had no tenderness in the places he couldn't see. When we reached the SUV, Mat and Edi were knelt on the back seat playing knuckles with Bobby. I'd tried to get the guys to stop playing pseudo violent games with them, but they pointed out that the boys weren't exactly equipped with the language knowledge to play I Spy yet, so it was physical or screaming bored children. It wasn't until Carlos had stopped and allowed me to put the brakes on that I realised one more problem. They'd brought an SUV. There was no way I could haul myself up there.

"Carlos," I whined.

"Babe," he responded, giving me that try-to-understand look in his eyes. "It was a split second decision. Bobby already had the SUV started up." I'd been actively asserting my independence for three days now and I could see Carlos struggling with not being able to just step in and do what I needed to have done and without risking my wrath. He got that I needed to do things for myself, maybe it was time to ease up a little. Rather than complain about his choice of transport, I just sighed and held my arms up so he could lift me into the back seat with the boys. As he wrapped his arms around me he pressed his lips against my ear and whispered, "Thanks, Babe."

Carlos got me settled, handed me my purse and checked me over while Bobby strapped the boys in and stowed my chair. We were half way home, stopped at a red light when Bobby reached into his cargo pocket and handed me a piece of paper. "You left this in your chair," he said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted it or not."

Confused as to what it could possibly be, I slowly unfolded it and saw the hand drawn grid and sweeping script. "Shit," I muttered.

"Dad!" Mat called forward to his father.

"Mommy said a swear word!" Edi finished for him.

I sighed. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Little ears heard all.

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